Melting Ice
by Woods Warrior
Summary: SPOILER WARNING: Original Arc Book 6: The Darkest Hour Before the final battle between BloodClan and LionClan, the ice in Scourge's veins is as cold as it has ever been, but what happens if it melts? My first fanfic and I hope you all will enjoy it. Rated T just to be safe.


**This is my take on Scourge's final thoughts and what might have motivate him to change from a scared kit to a heartless killer with "ice in his veins". It's also my first attempt at a fanfic, so any kind of criticism is welcomed. Whether you like it or you think it's worst thing you've ever read, just call it how you see it. **

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I remember going to the battle and a faint voice echoing in the back of my head. "You've got your revenge. You've won," it told me, "Why are you still fighting?"

I smiled inwardly as I answered. "Blood."

That was what drove me on. The thrill of watching the blood spill from a cat's throat split wide open, the feel of my reinforced claws tearing through flesh and fur and the indescribable feeling I got when I look into my enemies' eyes as their life is extinguished. With that thought, I finally felt the ice in my veins freeze my heart completely, colder than it's ever been before. And it was liberating. I was completely free from any thought of right or wrong, even that voice which had plagued me until now. I was completely iced over, and ice is strong.

But ice can also be brittle, and I felt it start to crack when the Forest Cats' leader rose back from the dead. "Scourge!" he yowled, "Turn and face me!" I let go of the white cat I was battling with, barely taking notice that he still had a hold on my leg. "How…I _killed _you!"

"You did. But I am a leader with nine lives who fights alongside StarClan. Can you say as much?" For a brief moment, I felt something almost unfamiliar to me, for it had been so long since the last time I experienced it. _Fear. _It was quickly replaced by hate; hate for him making me feel that weakening emotion. _I am Scourge! I am not _weak_!_ If I had to kill this cat eight more times, it would just be eight times the fun. I dislodged a pathetic white cat from my leg before turning on the ginger tom.

After a brief fight, he submitted. The weak fool was afraid to die all nine times in one night. I should've thought as much. But as I was contemplating how best to prolong his suffering, I saw him leap at me, and felt pain sear my pelt and my throat.

_No!_ I yowled in my head. _I am Scourge! I can _not _be beaten! _I fought viciously trying to get the fire-colored cat to release me, but it was all in vain. Fire. Fire can melt ice. As I fell from his jaws, I felt my throat start to fill with blood. I watched him prepare for the death blow when he stopped. Why had he stopped? Was he being merciful? No, he just didn't need to waste the effort. I was already as good as dead, suffering the same fate I had delivered to many other cats. But what's worse was that the ice I had welcomed was melting.

I could feel, and I felt regret. I felt sorrow. But most of all, I felt fear. I lay there, between life and death, replaying everything in my head and figuring how I ended up this way. My littermates had taunted me and I couldn't stand it, so I ran. I ran to the forest, hoping for a better life, but was mauled by a tabby tom. Then I ran to the twoleg place, where I met bloodthirsty cats whose way of survival was violence. All I ever wanted was for others to like me, and to do that, I'd have to kill.

So I killed, and killed, and kept on killing, but I realize now that it wasn't anger that drove me here, it was _fear. _It's always been there. I had to become cold so my cats wouldn't turn on me. I had to look strong. I didn't want to be killed by these bloodthirsty animals I led. I feared them.

I also hated a cat just like them, the one that mauled me and that had died at my paws. With horror, I thought back to a black and white tom and his sister who were living together against my rules. I had to show force, so I had my guards kill his sister while he watched. I had become the thing I hated.

As everything flashed by me, I felt like that helpless kit wandering through the woods only to be found and nearly killed by that huge tabby; only now, the tabby was replaced by a snarling, small, black tom with reinforced claws and cold frozen eyes like chips taken from the ice that was in his heart. I saw me; what I had become: a Scourge on the name of all cats.

I snarled at the image before me, only to feel the blood bubbling in my throat. The image just laughed.

As blackness started ebbing at my vision, I saw the faint images of cats surrounding me, closing in on me. I recognized them as the ones I had killed. And now they'd kill me…permanently. I saw the monster I had become laughing maniacally at me as he was ripped apart, just as I felt it happening to me. It was more agonizing than the worst pain you could possibly imagine, but as I recounted everything that I had done, I knew it was a light punishment.

I have killed too many times to count, ordered the deaths of many more and condemned even more than that just by not allowing them to be helped. And until now, I never felt any remorse for it. In fact, I enjoyed it. I have become the most vile, evil monster to ever have been created.

I know that it makes no difference now, but…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done, every life I've taken, every innocent kit I've doomed to a life like mine. I feel more sorrow than you could ever imagine collecting over the span of _ten_ lifetimes, and that's what I feel ripping me apart, destroying me forever and sending me into oblivion.

I deserve no pity, no mercy and no grief over my death. I deserve more than to be ripped apart by this pain.

_I am Scourge, and I have lost everything…_


End file.
